Wands
by Drollittle
Summary: Even old Ollivander has things to discover. Five interconnected one-shots from the wandmaker's perspective that accompany my "A Lily By Any Other Name" story; they'll still make sense if you haven't read the other story. Warning: wand lore nerdiness
1. James

**For poor Mr. Ollivander's sake, I am going to stick to the book's version of wand selection and not have his shop blowing apart with every wand the kids try!**

**Besides having fun, I am trying to work on perspective in my writing. Everything here should reflect the thoughts, views and style of Mr. Ollivander without using too many "he thought" type phrases. Let me know how well I pull it off!**

-James-

Garrick Ollivander stood at a work table in the upper room of his shop, shaving a fine dust of willow wood off his next wand as it spun on his lathe. This one would be slender, ten inches long, imbued with unicorn hair and polished with resin: a gentle, agreeable first wand for a witch or wizard ready to develop their magical power.

Perhaps he had felt inspired to begin this wand now because it was August, the season of shopping for Hogwarts students. The eager sons and daughters of wizarding families, the wide-eyed muggle-borns, all were making their way through his shop. Of course, this wand would not be ready for them until next year.

Out the window, Ollivander spotted a father and son approaching. He stopped the lathe. They both had untidy black hair. After eighteen years, the elder son of Mr. Harry Potter and Mrs. Ginevra Weasley Potter was coming for a wand. Of course the boy was only eleven, but it had been eighteen years since... He set down his chisel and untied his apron. The bell on the door sounded and Ollivander brushed the wood shavings and dust off his robes. He made his way down the narrow staircase. Before greeting them, however, he unlocked a drawer and took out a wand he had set aside there. He would not try this wand first; experience had showed that young customers were much more satisfied with their wands after at least a show of making a thorough search.

"Mr. Harry Potter, good morning, and this must be your son...James?"

"Good morning Mr. Ollivander. Yes, this is James, ready to start at Hogwarts!"

"James Potter. I remember selling a fine mahogany wand to your grandfather on a morning much like this. Let's see..." Ollivander took a mahogany from the shelf, not looking at its specifications because he was only bringing it out for show. He suspected a certain wand would choose this boy, and it was not one of mahogany.

Harry Potter, however, looked carefully at each box that was set on the counter. He read, "Mahogany, Unicorn hair, eleven and a half inch, dark oil stain and brass trimmed handle. December 2002. This is recently made."

It did not respond to James Potter, and neither did the others that Ollivander brought up. Ollivander made a point of trying several wands made of cypress and holly-the woods that fought and sacrificed for noble causes; and then wands of apple and pear-which generally refused to perform any dark arts whatsoever. He had done the same with Harry before selling him his unique holly and Phoenix feather wand, though Hagrid and Potter did not know at the time that he was considering that wand until he brought it out. As they had with his father, these wands regarded the boy calmly; he was not their match, but neither was he a threat.

Harry Potter watched as Ollivander bustled back and forth with the wands. "I am glad to see you in such good health, Mr. Ollivander. You seem to be as lively as ever!"

"Did you think I would wilt, after my encounter with You-Know-Who? No, I had a few of the best healers. Now, Mr. Potter," he addressed the boy. "Why not try something like your mother's wand? Hazel and dragon heartstring?" Ollivander suggested. This would be the last fake. Young Potter made a face. "Mum's wand doesn't like me."

Mr. Potter shook his head. "It knows when you are not supposed to be touching it. Your own wand will be just as loyal to you. Try it."

At last the moment had come. "I wonder..." Ollivander said, and gave Mr. Potter a significant look. However, he set the box lid down out of sight behind the counter. He did not want to reveal the details of this wand unless it was truly the one.

The wand was cool to the touch, the grey surface that had so stubbornly refused to take any stain or polish looked dull.

Ollivander picked it up carefully and offered it to the young Mr. Potter. The moment before it touched his fingers, however, Ollivander sneezed and the wand fell onto the counter. He picked it up again, but this time a noise outside distracted the boy and he moved his hand away. The third time, the wand made its decision clear. It simply did not go into the boy's hand, as if repelled by a magnet.

"Never mind." Said Ollivander, disappointed. He put the wand away. In that case, he would have to search a little harder.

Dragon heartstring was better than unicorn hair.

Ten inch wands found the boy too demanding, but wands longer than twelve inches wanted plenty of space and good care, not a wizard who would toss them in his sock drawer.

Ash wood was nervous. This boy must be an active one. In that case perhaps mahogany after all...

Or dogwood...

Or maple: an explorer's wand wood...close, but not quite right.

Harry Potter read aloud, "Sycamore, dragon heartstring, ten and seven-eighths inch, resin finish. 1969."

The wand warmed up as Mr. Ollivander handed it to James. James waved it and a crackle of red and orange sparks lit the room.

"I like this one!" The boy exclaimed.

"Yes, a very good match, at last. That is a sturdy wand, ready for adventure. Dragon heartstring from a powerful Ukranian Ironbelly, if I recall correctly. Between you and I, Mr. Potter," said Ollivander to the father, "now that it has found its owner, it will not want to be bored. Sycamore wands have been known to get restless and combust, and dragon heartstring only accentuates such properties. I would not let it go unused for more than two weeks."

James Potter grinned.

His father pursed his lips. "In that case I may have to hold onto it myself during the summers, do a few spells with it."

His son's grin only faded a little. "You won't really take it, Dad, will you, you'll want me to practice."

As if to demonstrate, he held out the wand. "expecto patronum!"

Astonishingly, for a child who had held his wand for the first time less than two minutes ago, there was a brief white glow at the wand tip.

"Well, James Potter, I do not think your wand will get bored."


	2. Albus

**Note:  
Sometimes in dialogue I like to leave out who says what and assume the reader will follow who is saying each line. Please tell me if you find any dialogue confusing. I will respond to all reviews :) and probably go look at your stories too. **

—Albus—

It was the season for Hogwarts-bound customers once again. Ollivander sorted galleons, sickles and knuts into a drawer behind his front counter, the payment for an elegant elm and unicorn hair wand with silver trim that he had just sold to one young Scorpius Malfoy. The thin faced boy's excitement had clearly shown through his efforts to act dignified and grown-up. Youth! Young people were all so eager to grow older, but Ollivander at times wished he could feel a bit younger.

He wandered back into his shop. Certainly he was getting old, but there had been a time he had felt even older still, and he was grateful to have been given a rare gift of renewal. He stopped in front of a drawer. He opened it, and remembered:

A battle at Hogwarts...the words scuttled up through the floorboards in old Muriel Prewett's house...Harry Potter dead? It was hard to understand what they were saying downstairs. Ollivander wanted to roll over, but was too exhausted. His mind and body were filled with confusion and pain. Out his window the evening sky glowed fiery crimson. Perhaps the world was ending, but he was too old, much too old and weak to do anything for it. After a time the house fell quiet and he lay shifting in and out of sleep.

There was a noise at the window. An owl...Ollivander was sorry he could not get up to let it in, but it found a way to open the window itself. It was big for an owl. No, it was a phoenix! In over eighty-five years, Ollivander was lucky to have seen five phoenixes. Three were wild; he had traveled in search of them and gathered feathers from their nests, but two were pets. One, a pet of the witch Liliko on the Tongan islands, had given six feathers. The other was Albus Dumbledore's own Fawkes who had given two, and Ollivander recognized him now.

"Ah Fawkes...why, even you are looking old and tired."

The scarlet bird alighted on Ollivander's nightstand, and bowed its head. It closed its eyes.

With effort, Ollivander reached up and touched Fawkes' neck. "You miss him? The world misses him, my friend."

Fawkes shook his head. A tear began to glisten in his eye.

"Ah, no no, I hope you don't consider any of this your fault. He-who-must-not-be-named would have sought and gained power with any other wand," Olivander took a heavy breath, "and we gave Harry Potter the best wand with which to oppose him. If he has now found the Wand of Destiny, why, then Destiny must take responsibility." Ollivander began to cough.

The tear dropped onto Ollivander's hand. Fawkes leaned close, and another fell upon Ollivander's cheek. His coughing subsided. In the quiet room, Ollivander stroked Fawkes' feathers and Fawkes let tears fall.

The pain was gone. Ollivander began to admire Fawkes' tailfeathers with a wandmaker's eye. He was feeling more like himself.

Fawkes straightened up on his perch and ruffled. He looked right into Ollivander's eyes, reached down with his beak and plucked a long feather. Just one. Ollivander sat up, and took it. Then Fawkes flew to the windowsill, and Ollivander stood and followed. He watched as the stunning bird flew away into the darkening scarlet sky.

Back in his shop, Ollivander held the wand box. He opened it and lifted out the gracefully shaped, undecorated, fourteen inch wand. It had been his most difficult project:

He carefully kept the precious feather while he made a new wand for dear young Luna, and took care of a flock of customers whose wands had been broken or stolen during the war. The phoenix feather was always at the back of his mind.

It was Ollivander family tradition to pair phoenix feather with aspen, cedar or yew to produce powerful wands with quick responses. Old Gregorovich had often put his phoenix feathers in elm or fir to moderate the feathers' impetuosity, but Ollivander did not want to stifle any of this feather's independence or power. He expected this to be the last phoenix feather he would ever work with, his traveling days being past. It was a singular offering of renewal from Fawkes, and Ollivander almost believed, from Albus Dumbledore himself. Rebirth, for a world emerging from war. This feather would become Garrick Ollivander's greatest wand.

He considered duplicating Harry Potter's wand by coaxing the feather into a holly wood sheath. It had indeed produced powerful results. Cypress was also noble, but Ollivander did not consider it an option, as most cypress wands he had ever sold had eventually been broken or defeated.

Another idea kept tugging at his mind. The Elder Wand. Harry Potter had used it to defeat He-who-must-not-be-named and to repair his own broken wand, a marvelous feat. Potter had said the wand was now buried again with Dumbledore, and though Ollivander found this disappointing, he respected the wand's final resting place. The Elder Wand could not be retrieved, but perhaps a replacement could be made.

Ollivander searched out a fine block of elder wood, and began preparing it. It took many days and nights of labor. It took the greatest care. The magical properties of both wood and feather had to be protected and enhanced as they were fitted together.

Joining them was more difficult than Ollivander had anticipated. He eventually discovered that one drop of the Draught of Peace and a mild sticking charm, along with his best wand enchantments and techniques, brought them together.

Ollivander finished the wand, and wondered who it would choose. Ollivander would do his best not to sell it to an opponent of good, but it was hard to tell what a young person would become. It would undoubtedly have to be someone great, perhaps a child of the remarkable Ginevra Weasley and Harry Potter himself. Ollivander had assumed it would be their eldest, but in many old tales it was the third and youngest sibling that proved the wisest and strongest.

A ring at the door interrupted his thoughts. Still with the wand in his hands, Ollivander hurried to the front of the shop.

"Mr. Harry Potter, why, I was just thinking of you...how is your wand? And Ginevra's? And young James'?"

"All very good, Mr. Ollivander. I have James' wand here." He patted his pocket. Then he indicated the boy by his side. "This is my younger son, Albus."

"Albus Severus, yes..." Ollivander observed the boy. He looked even more like his father than James had. Like most first years he seemed nervous, but he was also perceptive as he gazed around the shop and then looked at Mr. Ollivander.

"It's nice to meet you, sir."

"Indeed."

"Um...I would like a wand please."

Ollivander had been distracted. "Yes yes, let's see..." He was about to hand the boy the wand he was already holding. The wand. He shook himself.

"Shall we start with something made of holly, like your father's?"

Harry Potter read each box as he had two years ago with his older son.

"Hmm, how about apple and unicorn hair, ten inches?" Ollivander offered. The wand trembled slightly when young Albus grasped it, a shiver in the apple-wood that only a wandmaker would notice. Ollivander frowned.

"Pear and unicorn hair, thirteen and a quarter inches?" This one seemed calm. The apple wand could have been intimidated simply because it was too short.

Ollivander tried an elder wood and dragon heartstring wand. Harry Potter's eyebrows raised when he read "elder" on the label. The wand was warm to the touch, but Ollivander felt it pull his arm toward Mr. Potter where it sensed more immediate strength, not his son. He pulled it back.

The hesitation Ollivander recognized from a few apple and pear wood wands made him reluctant to try the elder phoenix wand for this boy. Wands saw past the timidity of childhood and knew that this wizard might be too powerful, too curious and ambitious. Years ago, Ollivander would have been eager to match the strongest wand to the strongest wizard, but he had learned to be careful.

Yet, power and ambition were not necessarily evil, and wands sensed potential and probability, not certainty. It could not have been a meaningless coincidence that Ollivander had been holding the wand when the Potters arrived.

"Mr. Ollivander, are you feeling well?" Harry Potter asked after a moment.

"Yes, my apologies. I was just thinking. We could try a sycamore wand, like your brother's."

"What about that one?" The boy asked, standing on tiptoe and pointing to the elder and phoenix wand.

"That one, hmm? Very well then, I do wonder..." Ollivander said, and presented it to Albus Potter. It grew a little warmer as he took it. "Indeed!" said Ollivander.

The boy smiled and waved it, but nothing happened, and his smile disappeared.

Of course, it would not be easy to please. Convincing it would take something more than a wave. "Try a spell." Ollivander suggested, "I am sure you have learned the words for a—"

Without much thought Albus pointed the wand at his father. "_Expelliarmus_." He said. But Harry Potter's Auror instincts reacted and he spoke the same spell at nearly the same moment.

A jet of white light burst from Albus' wand tip and met a jet of red from Harry's, crackling, in the middle of Ollivander's shop. A golden dome began to form around the father and son. Harry Potter was caught by surprise, and being unthreatened, must have felt no reason to push his will, while Albus was clearly desparate to prove himself to the wand. White overcame the red even before the dome had fully formed, and Albus' hand on the wand was vibrating so hard he let go and the connection broke.

"Magnificent," Ollivander whispered, "Fascinating."

Harry's wand jumped from his hand toward Albus, but the boy was too startled to catch it. It landed at Albus' feet, and his father picked it up.

"You said there were only two!" Harry Potter demanded.

"There _were_ only two. Fawkes brought me another feather the night you battled He-who-must-not-be-named at Hogwarts."

"Fawkes..."

"It had been a year since Dumbledore's death. I do not know where Fawkes was before he visited me, nor where he went after."

"...so that must be why you healed so well." Potter said. "And you made another wand."

"I made this wand, which may be the greatest wand I have ever made, Mr. Potter."

Albus waved the wand again and a shimmering stream of crystal-white magic flowed from it.

Ollivander nodded, and retreated into his shop for the box. When he came back, Harry Potter was examining the wand with his son looking on eagerly.

"The color of the wood," Mr. Potter said, "reminds me of..."

Ollivander handed him the box.

"Elder." Potter read aloud and shook his head. "Al, maybe we should keep looking for a different—"

"But I really like this one, Dad. It works for me, you saw."

"The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter."

"I think the wizard can always make the final choice. Elder wood is known to be disloyal and demanding isn't it, and phoenix feather also has to be controlled by a strong will. They both can act on their own. It seems like a dangerous combination."

"Ah, so I thought as well, at first; elder and phoenix feather have similar properties of potency, awareness, and demand for a strong owner," said Ollivander.

"However, after much consideration I believe their demands are very different. Elder is quick to sense power and claim a wielder, working at its full strength right away, but it is also quick to change hands when it encounters someone who seems stronger. Phoenix feather, on the other hand, Mr. Potter, is slow to accept ownership. It will work reluctantly at first, but after a few months if pleased with its match, will show its true power and become deeply attached. Like a phoenix bird, its allegiance is hard won and hardly ever lost. If it does pass to a new owner, it will be to a friend or heir, not an enemy." Ollivander said. "I am curious to see how these opposing tendencies will merge. Dangerous? Perhaps, if not directed right. The one thing that is clear, is that this wand has chosen your son. If it demands a strong wizard, then it must have found one."

They both looked at Albus. The young boy stared up at them for a moment with wide green eyes, but then smiled.

"I can balance it on my chin."

He tossed his head back and stuck out his chin, placing the end of the wand below his lower lip. It pointed straight up for several seconds, while he kept moving slightly to hold it in balance. Then he dropped his chin down and caught the wand in his hand.

Ollivander scratched his head and said, "if that is the measure of a strong wizard, then there we have it!"

There was a commotion in the street outside and a young girl's voice yelled, "James!"

Mr. Potter looked out the window. "Dumbledore's Beard!" he exclaimed, tossed Albus his bag of coins, and ran out.

The young Mr. Potter paid for his own wand, thanked Mr. Ollivander, and turned to go. He cast a door opening charm, which worked perfectly.

"Well Albus," Ollivander mused, "We may grow old and die, but greatness rises anew."

Albus Potter paused and nodded thoughtfully. "Yes sir, I suppose it does."

—

**Notes:**

**Liliko is a Tongan name that means bird. As I invented her just now, several ideas sprouted and she is actually a really cool character...maybe there will be another story about her...maybe involving the Scamander family...**


	3. Lily

—Lily—

_Apple's mine, my heartstring, and yours is yew,_

_Every charm is ours as our cores are true._

-Jean Pomme, Paris 1957

...

_Little witches gather round,_

_I'll tell thee which wand to spin:_

_Golden locks aspen,_

_Redheads applewood,_

_Brown tresses maplewood,_

_Black wigs fir._

_If thou art a 'morphmagus_

_That's plain unfair,_

_Get your wand from the muggles_

_For aught I care!_

-Attributed to Eliza Greensmith, Massachussets 1690

...

_If your wand is apple, rosy and sweet, _

_You'll be friends with everyone you meet._

-Unknown

...

_Wands in hands, an' hands in hands,_

_Wand'ring on the island sands. _

_Apple wand an' Aspen wand,_

_Nae two hearts could be mar fond. _

_Rings on hands, an' hands in hands,_

_Wand'ring on the island sands. _

-Robert McFiddler, Shetland Islands 1850

...

_When wand of apple loves a wand of pear,_

_O ne'er an 'appier magical pair was there!_

-Burbage, Stratford-upon-Avon, 1580

...

Of all the wand woods, none was the subject of more folk song and poetry than apple, Ollivander thought as he twisted a fine unicorn hair into a pliable applewood sheath. Most of it was rubbish written by apple wand owners to woo their sweethearts. Let others debate the best romantic match; all Ollivander would say of it was that apple wands chose owners of a cheerful, gregarious, and often poetic nature.

Pear wood was very similar, one slight difference being that pear preferred those who were more calm and reserved (hence, less ridiculous poetry) than apple.

Ollivander painted a few drops of sealing potion onto the wand, then set it aside to dry. Customers would be arriving, so he descended the stairs and went to the shop front.

Red hair passed by the window—Weasleys again. Ollivander went to the shelves and pulled a few wands from the shelves to start with: dogwood, cypress, maple...as the door opened.

"...nice looking white, but it was cauliflower flavored, and Rose's surprice-cream was blueberry, so Hugo was mad and wanted a trade. I was tired of them arguing so I traded him for my licorice. I didn't want the cauliflower, but he wouldn't have been happy to trade unless he was giving me something. We're here!"

The girl stopped talking and looked around the shop. She did look like a Weasley, but Ollivander knew this was Lily Potter with her mother Ginevra.

"That was kind of you. Yes, we are here! Are you nervous?"

"No! You must be Mr. Ollivander. Good morning!"

"It is a good morning, Miss Potter."

So, she was kind, a peacemaker, and friendly. Ollivander knew just where to start—pear and unicorn hair, flexible, ten and two-thirds inches.

Close, but not it. She was a Potter, and they had always been dynamic, so perhaps dragon heartstring...

"It has been a few years since I saw you, Mrs. Potter. Is your hazel and heartstring wand still serving you well?"

"Very well, thanks!"

"Good! Let's try one like it now for young Lily. And, forgive my curiosity, your sons' wands—how are they?"

"They work quite well. A little too well at times!"

"Oh?"

Lily laughed, "Jamesie had his Firebolt-Chaser taken away at school, so he went and enchanted a regular broom to fly!"

"Complex charm work indeed, but his wand would be well suited to it! Here Miss Potter, a slender willow-wand like your Grandmother's...and the El—Albus' wand?"

Ginevra Potter answered, "Quite powerful, apparently. Professor Phrome tells us Al was doing grade three transfiguration at the end of his first year, and so far we have only had one spat of Priori Incantatem at the breakfast table!"

"Yes, I heard a few things from old Filius Flitwick...all as I might have expected. "

"Mum and dad are afraid he'll go too far and reverse transfigure himself into a toadstool, but I think he's brilliant! Besides, Al is always nice. He's my favorite brother."

Always nice? That was a reassuring description, especially from a younger sister. It was a rare boy who was always nice to his younger sister! A sister who, Ollivander reminded himself, needed a wand.

It was clear that dragon heartstring preferred her more than unicorn hair. She had energy to match James, but also a sweetness that wasn't reflected in the usual energetic wands of mahogany, aspen, dogwood, sycamore or maple. There were a few redwood wands somewhere on the side shelves...but no—Ollivander should have thought of it before—apple!

He must have subconsciously dismissed apple when he decided heartstring was best, because it was unusual to pair dragon heartstring with apple or pear.

"Wait a moment." He said, and retreated to the shelves. There were only two of apple and dragon heartstring: a nine and a half inch, and a twelve inch, both made decades ago and never sold.

The first was too short, but when Ollivander opened the second box a fresh fragrance of warm apple spread around the shop.

Lily Potter breathed in the smell and took the wand. Swish! A flock of intricate golden butterflies flew from the tip of the wand and fluttered around the room like snitches. She caught one, and it sat on her hand for a moment before dissolving into flakes of gold dust, as did the others in the air.

"Lovely!" Said Mrs. Potter, and paid as her daughter held her wand tightly and looked at it.

"That's apple and dragon heartstring—from a clever Chinese Fireball—they are the most agreeable dragons, to each other that is, sharing their territories. Still quite fierce and very fast," Explained Ollivander, "twelve inches, swishy, with wax finish, made 1945. You ought to re-wax it at least twice a year."

"I will! Thank you, Mr. Ollivander."

"Do you want to put it back in the box, dear?" Asked Ginevra Potter.

Lily shook her head, and held onto the wand while they left.

Dragon heartstring and apple...often considered incompatible...but occasionally the most unexpected pairs came together. The conflicting properties within the wand were brought into harmony by the power of kindness, in the hands of Lily Potter.

**Notes:**

**Did anyone spot the references to Robert Burns, Shakespeare (iambic pentameter!), and Tolkien? I would be really impressed if you see the Tolkien bit, it's quick. **


	4. Tony

—Tony—

It was only minutes after Lily Potter closed the door of the shop, that it opened again. The mother and son that walked in did not show any of the affluence or confidence of the Potters. Their robes were threadbare and the boy carried a stack of used spellbooks. The boy looked around the shop with nervous curiosity, while the mother simply looked down.

"Good morning sir." Said the boy quietly to Mr. Ollivander.

"Here for a wand, young man?" Ollivander asked.

"Yes sir."

"Ve need to sell a vand first, please, Mr. Ollivander." Said the mother in a soft, low and lilting Slavic accent. From a foreign country—that was why Ollivander had not recognized her. It was unusual for him to buy back wands, but he acknowledged her offer.

"A wand to sell, Madame—?"

She did not supply her name, but drew out a stout, dark polished wand. It was not one of Ollivander's make, and he almost scoffed aloud until he saw the effort with which she was blinking and biting her lip as she set it on the counter.

"It vas my mother's. It is cherry vood, and, and griffin feather."

"Made by Gregorovich." He stated.

"Yes."

"Mmm. I don't use griffin feather; I find it slow in responding. You went to Durmstrang then, I suppose?"

"Yes...vell, for one year." She looked embarrassed.

Ollivander didn't ask, but he wondered if she had stopped going to school because they considered her a squib. Had she been using this, her mother's wand? If so, there was a likely chance they were wrong about her. Trying to use someone else's wand, someone else's _cherry_ and _griffin feather _wand at that, was a short route to failure.

"Vill you buy it? Is it...vould it be vorth enough for us to buy a new vand for my son?"

This wand could not rival the lowliest of Ollivander's wands, though some wizards, foreigners, might claim otherwise. Ollivander could never re-sell it as if it were one of his own. He turned it in his fingers.

If he did not buy this wand, would they be unable to afford a wand, leaving the boy unprepared for his Hogwarts education? Dumbledore had occasionally payed for students' wands (including the ill-destined Tom Riddle's), but neither McGonagall or Flitwick had made such an offer. Perhaps Ollivander could give this boy a new wand, then write to Flitwick to request payment. He had no desire to trade for the woman's old Gregorovich wand.

A young girl's voice suddenly repeated in Ollivander's mind, _"I didn't want the cauliflower, but he wouldn't have been happy to trade unless he was giving me something." _

Lily Potter had lent some light to Ollivander's heart that morning. He gave in and nodded.

"Yes Madame. I will take this wand, as a trade. Now to find a wand for the young wizard—May I ask your names?"

The mother sighed. "I am Nadia Dolohov. My son is Tony—Antonin—Dolohov."

Ollivander took a step back and breathed sharply. He had never sold a wand to a Dolohov, but there had been a Dolohov in this shop, one dark night twenty-one years ago. Ollivander remembered the rough voices and the thick blackthorn wand pointed at his heart.

"_Got him, Dolohov."_

_"Good, Rosier. Der is no need to struggle old man. De Dark Lord just vants a vord wif you."_

Ollivander remembered reading the upsetting news about Antonin Dolohov's breakouts from Azkaban, and feeling relief each time Harry Potter recaptured the prisoner.

And this, this was his family?

Ollivander made a pretense of rummaging in a cupboard behind the counter while he thought. He had the urge to turn out this young Dolohov; the boy would have difficulty following the ways of his father without a wand! The urge passed, however, as Ollivander realized it came more from the sting of personal experience with old Dolohov than any real cause for suspecting the son. He had sold wands to the children of Nott, Malfoy, and Thickness without much hesitation, and young Dolohov was even less of a threat because he could hardly have learned any dark magic from a father in prison and a squib mother. Besides, if they didn't get a wand here they could go to the Torquetwig or the Coburg-Drury wandmakers.

Ollivander thought again of the Potters. Harry Potter had come here as a boy, with just as much uncertain potential as this. Nothing could be known with surety except the choice the wands made. Ollivander straightened and addressed young Antonin, who was called Tony.

"Mr. Tony Dolohov hmm? Let me find the wand for you. We can start with blackthorn, yew...here is one with a dragon heartstring core, twelve inches. Go on, take it."

The wands rejected Tony coldly. He was no warrior. Ollivander eyed his shabby appearance and solemn expression. Maybe a wand for a wizard in inner conflict and development.

"Try hawthorn. No."

"Willow? Let me find some back here..."

It was said that he who has the furthest to go, will go the fastest with willow. Ollivander brought out a willow and unicorn hair wand, and remembered that it was the very willow wand he had been working on when Harry Potter brought his eldest child to the shop. What a coincidence it would be to sell it now, the day the Potter's youngest child had come!

It felt slightly warm, the closest so far, and Ollivander felt sure that a unicorn hair core was best, yet willow was not right.

Perhaps Tony Dolohov was not in inner conflict, but content to be an outsider, happy to be separate from others. Ollivander handed him wands of ebony and pine, which were unresponsive. Ollivander was not getting any closer.

"What do you like to do, Mr. Dolohov?"

"We grow and sell plants, sir, for potions ingredients."

"But what do you _like_ to do?"

The boy raised his eyebrows. "That is what we do. We like it well enough."

"Do you play quidditch?"

"No, sir."

"Very well." Said Mr. Ollivander. The boy grew plants, and cared more about work than play. They would try oak...

Fir...

Chestnut...

Cypress...

Beech...

Ollivander began to think Mrs. Dolohov really was a squib and her son was like her. Hogwarts wouldn't have sent him a letter though, if that was the case.

"It looks like we will have to try every wand in the shop!" Ollivander said with slight annoyance, while Tony Dolohov looked discouraged.

"I will go get another stack from the shelves. In the mean time, try some of those." Ollivander indicated the pile of wands tried and set aside by Lily Potter, which he had not had time to put away.

With a dozen wand boxes in his arms, Ollivander returned from the shelves to the counter, but set them down in a hurry. Dolohov had waved a wand and a leaf-like, shivering and rustling green effect had spread in the air in front of him. Delight swam in the eyes of Mrs. Dolohov as she watched even-shaped leaves uncurl, give a rustle and fade into the air, leaving a mild sweet smell.

The Dolohov boy smiled briefly.

"Why, you have done it! You found a match without me; I never would have expected that wand to be the one." Ollivander chuckled and shook his head, bemused.

It was the very first wand Ollivander had tried for Lily Potter, when he had heard of her kindness and friendliness. Pear and unicorn hair, ten and two-thirds inches, wax finish, 1998.

This wand would splinter before performing any dark magic. Ollivander had observed pear to be the one very least aggressive wand wood that he used, even milder than apple, which had a certain tangy quality and could duel well for a good cause. Pear was simply peace and calm. Unicorn hair was steady and even-tempered. Wax gave the wand more flexibility, but not as much strength as resin. In all respects it was an utterly ironic match for the death eater's son.

Even stranger, was that pear tended to choose witches and wizards who were cheerful and well liked by people, who enjoyed strong friendships everywhere they went. This nervous and straight-faced young man, with his unkempt appearance and the horrible name of Antonin Dolohov, was a dramatic exception to that tendency in pear wand owners.

Ollivander boxed the wand for the Dolohovs, and said, "The wax finish should be re-polished at least twice a year. You have already paid me with the cherry wand, so here you are."

"Good day." The Dolohovs both replied in their quiet manner, and they were gone.

**Notes:**

**I borrowed the name of the Coburg-Drury wandmakers from Blood Status and accompanying stories written by meldahlie. Thanks!** u/3579600/meldahlie


	5. Nadia

—Nadia—

Diagon Alley was calm, with that particular hush that rests on a street during an afternoon shower of spring rain. The cats had all found some dry corner to curl up in, and everyone was waiting inside for the rain to pass.

Ollivander was rubbing warm-smelling resin finish into a wand of rosewood. It was a lovely aged piece of wood, the grain of it patterned with knots. Knots in the wood made it more difficult to carve into shape, but after patiently sanding them, created intriguing designs.

This resin was not a surface finish. It wouldn't create a shiny appearance, but would penetrate into the wood to give strength.

Ollivander added a few last touches of resin to dry spots on the wood. Then, amid the pitter-patter of the rain he heard laughter. It rang freely across the lonesome street and Ollivander looked out his upstairs window.

Ah! His phoenix elder wand! How dearly he had been wanting to see it again. It would be there, somewhere in a pocket under those unmistakable spectacled green eyes. Ollivander had picked up bits of news here and there, about improved potions recipes, travels to Japan and India, research into the differences and similarities between Eastern and Western magic, and the downfall of a sorcerer named Oni-Ni-Kanabō. Stories about Albus Potter always seemed a bit fantastical, which was as they should be, with a wand like that.

Albus Potter was walking arm-in-arm with a young lady with Asian features and long black hair. James of the sycamore wand led the group, a spring in his step. Lily of the apple and heartstring was there too, she must be two or three years out of Hogwarts, and her arm was around a smiling young man Ollivander didn't know. The young man had one arm around Lily Potter. He said something to James and the whole group laughed again. His other arm held his wand up, making an umbrella spell over another witch.

This last witch was the only one wearing a hat to shield from the weather. The other five had their hoods thrown back, reveling in the water that drenched their young, energetic faces.

They paused beneath Ollivander's window. Would he be lucky enough for a visit? But then James said something about meeting Alice in the Leaky Cauldron, and walked on. James was followed by Albus and the lady with him, but the other three turned toward Ollivander's shop door. He went down to them.

"Al is right, mother, it is worth a try!" The young man said.

"Yes, but I von't get my hopes up."

Ollivander had heard that voice before. Indeed, when the woman pulled her hat off Ollivander thought he recognized her, but with no recollection of selling her a wand, his memory of her was not clear.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Ollivander." She said.

But there had been a wand—cherry and griffin feather, eight inches. Ollivander had traded it years ago for several blocks of Swiss fir.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Dolohov, if I remember correctly?"

"Yes Sir."

"And it is also a pleasure to see you, Miss Potter, and, why then...you can't be...pear and unicorn hair, ten and a half inches, flexible?"

Tony Dolohov nodded. He had changed beyond recognition in both appearance and manner. His hair (though currently soaked with rain) was short and clean, and his eyes sparkled with happiness. He seemed to have achieved that rare sense of confidence, of one who assumes they will like and be liked by most everyone they meet. Lily Potter had been like that. Judging by the way they had not let go of each other even to squeeze through the door, Ollivander guessed that she had been a catalyst to his metamorphosis. Dolohov and Potter, a pair as unlikely as apple wood and dragon heartstring, now stood together, as similar as apple and pear.

"We are here for my mother, Mr. Ollivander." Explained Tony. "Al thinks she isn't really a squib, and if she had the right wand..."

Ollivander clapped his hands. "Yes! Let us give it a try."

Willow might be a good choice for someone who had doubted their abilities, and had so much to learn. For once, Ollivander's first guess was right. She had tried only three wands before one emitted peach colored sparks.

Nadia Dolohov jumped. She looked at her son. "Does that mean it vorks?"

"Yes mother! It means that is the right one, doesn't it, Mr. Ollivander?"

"It certainly does."

"That was quick! I took much longer." Said Lily.

"Me too," said Tony, "you remember, mother, I had to try dozens of them."

"But," the mother questioned doubtfully, "how do ve know I can really do magic vith it?"

"It takes a lot of practice, but a really simple spell might work for you now. What's an easy one, Lily? Lumos?"

"Yeah, try lumos." Agreed Lily.

"That makes light?"

"Yes. So, just hold the wand up a little, imagine the tip of the wand glowing, and say lumos."

Ollivander rubbed his chin as he watched them. A son teaching his mother magic: it was not an everyday sight.

"Lumos. Did I say it wrong?"

"Just try again."

"Lumos...lumos..,"

"Try saying it a little louder."

"Lumos!"

"Are you imagining the light?"

"Lumos...maybe ve try a different von?"

"Alright...levitating, lifting. That's a beginning one: say wingardium leviosa."

Mrs Dolohov frowned. "Vingardum..."

"You'll have to say the spells with the exact latin-based pronunciation, mother. I know it's tricky, but it's wing-gar-di-um. Four syllables."

"Oo-ing-gar-di-um"

"Better. Now say wing quickly and put more emphasis on gar."

"Wingardium"

"Good! Add leviosa."

"Leviosa. Wingardium leviosa"

"And make a swish and flick motion."

Mrs. Dolohov swished and flicked half-heartedly. "I von't be able to learn this, Tony. It seems not to be vorking for me."

"You only just started." He argued gently.

"No, I have been trying for years. I am—"

"But with your own wand—"

"Listen, Tony. I am very happy. You are very happy, a successful vizard. You are getting married soon," she smiled at Lily. "It is everything I hope for. I don't need this." She set the willow wand back on the counter.

Ollivander sighed. She was obviously not a squib, but if she didn't want to try, she might as well be.

The disappointed silence was broken by footsteps at the door.

"Did you find one yet, Mrs. Dolohov?"

Ollivander smiled; it was just who he wanted to see. The Asian-looking young lady was with him again, but not his older brother.

"Ve found one that made sparks, Albus, but I don't think I can do magic vith it."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Mr. Ollivander, but if it made sparks, if it recognized you, then you will be able to use it." Albus said with certainty.

"Yes, that is right." Confirmed Ollivander, and he asked, "and how is your wand working for you, Mr. Potter?"

Albus shrugged. "Oh, I can't complain. I haven't been able to control the weather over more than the area of a Quidditch pitch yet, but it does most other things."

Ollivander thought he saw the others roll their eyes. He fished for details, "I read something about a dark sorcerer over in...China?"

"The Oni-that-used-to-have-an-iron-club? Yeah, he was all over the place: China, Japan, Indonesia...we even ended up chasing him to New Zealand. He won't be bothering anyone now."

"You killed him?"

"No, his own dementors turned on him when he lost his power, but it was Katsue that defeated him! I was just there." He indicated the lady by his side. "This is Katsue Suzuki, Mr. Ollivander."

She gave Ollivander a graceful little bow and spoke in a melodic accent. "I am pleased to meet you. Al likes to tell people he was 'just there,' but I could not have broken the kanabō without his help." Then she looked back at Mrs. Dolohov. "Did you try your new wand very much, Madam?"

Mrs. Dolohov seemed alarmed to have the conversation return to her. "We tried Lumos, and Vingardium Levosa, but I couldn't do them."

Katsue looked at Albus. He said, "akaru and ukabu."

"Oh yes, light and flight are good beginning charms," said Katsue, "but it is difficult to start spell work without a foundation."

"Oh right..." Said Tony disheartened, "I forgot about all the theory..."

"Theory?" Said Katsue.

Albus explained, "At Hogwarts we started with a bunch of reading about how to do magic. But Katsue doesn't mean that. Beginners going to Mahōtokoro school start with posture, the wand hold, the feel of magic. It's a better way to start, if you ask me."

"It is a different way." She said modestly, "would you like to try it?"

Mrs. Dolohov sighed and shrugged. "I can see that Albus von't be satisfied until I do."

Albus grinned. "Do you mind if we stay in your shop to practice for a few minutes, Mr. Ollivander?"

"I have no objections. The rain is still pouring so I doubt any other customers are out."

They all looked expectantly at Katsue, including Ollivander, who had his doubts that a foreign method could be better. Indeed, he didn't think there was a specific way to hold a wand, and he knew some things about wands.

Katsue Suzuki pulled her hair back and took off her raincoat, talking as she did so, "There are many ways to stand and to hold a wand of course, depending on your situation, but we will start with the position that allows magic to flow most freely from you through it. For average witches and wizards posture hardly matters, but this position helps the beginner get started, and it helps the very advanced magician to direct the power needed for extremely high-magnitude spells.

"So, Tony, will you hold your mother's wand for her for a moment? Thank you. Madam Dolohov, I recognize that you and I are each a part of a magical Whole, and the magic is a part of each of us. May I show you what I have learned?"

"Yes..."

"Thank you for giving me this opportunity to teach you. First, stand with your feet about shoulder width apart. Put your right foot slightly forward and both toes slightly out. Put all your weight on your right. Now shift all your weight back to your left. Shift most of your weight to the right, then most to the left, and finally balance between them. That is where your balance should be. Roll your shoulders up, back, and then relax them. Turn your head to the right. To the left. And to the center."

Lily and Tony had followed along with these positions, both rapt, watching Katsue, whose voice mingling with the sound of the rain on the window was almost like magic. Albus stood leaning on the windowsill, still grinning, and Ollivander watched from behind the counter.

Katsue continued. "Hold out your wand hand at the height of your heart. Turn the palm and wrist facing up and let your fingers relax there. Flop it a little to get it relaxed, like this." She flopped her hand up and down a few times. Ollivander thought it looked rather absurd.

"See how your fingers are curled up naturally? Let them stay there, and Tony, place her wand just there in her hand, between her thumb and finger.

"Keep your hand relaxed in that shape as you turn your wrist to the side and your thumb to the top. Now you are holding your wand. It is pointing up and out at the same angle as your arm: like an extension of your arm. Don't tighten your fingers around it unless necessary; that constricts the flow of power.

"To do most charms, you form in your mind a picture of the effect of the spell along with words of the incantation. If necessary, you may say the words aloud, but try first to form it nonverbally. Light, then, imagine now at the tip of your wand. Along with that image, think the word akaru, or lumos if you like."

Of the three who had been following along, Lily's wand lit up, but Tony's and his mother's did not.

"Mrs, Dolohov," asked Katsue, "do you feel anything as you form the mental image and word?"

"Feel? I don't think so."

"Try it again and tell me if the wand feels warmer or colder as you do it."

"...a little warmer, perhaps..."

"That is good! And, is there a flow of energy going up or down your spine?"

"Up."

"Very good. That is what simple charms should feel like, and if you say the incantation aloud, it will push the magic along. Try now."

Mrs. Dolohov held her wand in position, thought for a moment and said, "lumos!"

Her wand shone with a warm, steady beam of light. She held it for several silent seconds, and then let it go out.

There was a chorus of "well done!" And the door opened once more, introducing a wet James Potter.

"Are you all done in here yet? Oh, was that Mrs. Dolohov lighting up the windows?" He asked hopefully.

"It vas." She admitted.

"Your wand looks good. What is it made of?" He asked, and looked at Ollivander.

"It is willow and unicorn hair, Mr. Potter. Pliable. Made in 2016."

Mrs. Dolohov said, "that is fairly new, isn't it?"

James nodded. "That's the year I started at Hogwarts."

"Yes, in fact I remember working on this wand the very morning you came with your father."

James, Albus and Katsue, Lily, Tony, and Nadia looked at Mr. Ollivander. Through the window, the rain was softening and the clouds breaking. A ray of sunlight lit the red and gold paint of a shop across the street, the colors of a rising phoenix.

"That is remarkable." Said Albus.

And so it was.

**Notes:**

**Oni-Ni-Kanabō literally means "demon with an iron club" but it is an idiom for "invincible."**

**Katsue means "victorious" and Suzuki refers to the Suzuki violin method, which focuses on posture, bowhold, and learning by ear rather than reading at first. I also happen to know an awesome lady named Katsue Suzuki :)**


End file.
